Trial By Fire
by kasey8473
Summary: Sequel to 'Venus Revealed'. Adhemar must win over Jocelyn's friends. Ch. 5: The friends look to the future. Ch. 6 epilogue : Geoff goes looking for his past. COMPLETE
1. Chapter One

Title: Trial By Fire

Chapter: One

Author: Kasey

Summary: _After 'Venus Revealed'. _Adhemar must win over Jocelyn's friends.

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Adhemar/Jocelyn, Roland/Christiana, Geoff/Kate

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Notes: In scholarly circles, if anyone is interested, there has been a debate over whether Chaucer and his wife were truly happily married. This debate stems from the few details known about their marriage. I've always thought the evidence leaned towards a happy marriage, since the attitude in his work towards the institution is rather favorable. However, for plot purposes, I'm taking a bit of a liberty with his marriage. This is for the Kate/Chaucer 'shippers. Here's hoping Geoff and Philippa aren't rolling in their graves!

* * *

They were married there in the Cathedral in Rouen, the same Cathedral where Jocelyn had first met Will. It hadn't changed much over the years. The ceremony was early in the morning, before the first mass of the day had been spoken, and was nothing fancy. There was no royalty present, no fanfare to announce that Jocelyn had remarried, only a simple exchange of vows before witnesses consisting of Thomas, Adhemar's children and men, Christiana and Miles.

Jocelyn had spent the past few days and nights in Adhemar's room at the inn. A trunk of her clothes had been delivered sometime during the afternoon she spent meeting Genevieve and Ana and Christiana had been put in charge of moving Jocelyn and Miles' belongings out of Thomas' house. Jocelyn didn't think she'd ever forget Adhemar telling Christiana he wanted her to be thorough in what was rightfully Jocelyn's property in her packing.

"Make certain Thomas has nothing left of your mistress to remind him he even has a sister. Take as many men as you need with you. He won't protest. If he does, have the matter brought to me."

Christiana had been bewildered that the responsibility was entirely hers and her judgment was going to be trusted. She'd nodded, but the 'my lord' in her reply had obviously stuck in her throat. Would she stay after the move had been made? Jocelyn certainly hoped Christiana would. In fact, she hoped her friends could all be persuaded to return, though it would be something of an uphill battle to convince them that Nicholas Adhemar was not the monster they thought him. Roland might give benefit of the doubt, but Wat and Kate? Jocelyn feared it would take much coaxing on her part to get them to return.

Adhemar tilted her chin up and bent, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that could barely be called a kiss, just enough to seal the vows here before the priest. He'd not touched her in a suggestive way at all since her breakdown days earlier. No kisses, no caresses, just hugs and embraces of the sort a concerned friend might give. He hadn't even slept in the bed with her, if he'd slept at all. Each night, he'd tucked her in and each morning she'd woken sprawled across the bed by herself, the sheets cold beside her.

He was being honorable in his own way she supposed.

As soon as the ceremony was completed and they were considered wed in the eyes of the church, Miles brought the girls over, Ana clinging to one arm and Genevieve the other. Jocelyn smiled. He'd taken to the girls as though they really were his sisters and they, in return, had taken to him. When Jocelyn, worse for the wear after crying that long while, had gone into the common room to eat that day with Adhemar, Miles had been wary of the girls and their claims they were to be his sisters.

He'd looked up at Jocelyn and asked with his usual forthrightness, "Do I really get sisters, mom?"

Adhemar had answered for her, crouching down so he was on level with Miles. "You certainly do. You get sisters and a huge house to run about in --"

Christiana had told Jocelyn about Miles meeting Adhemar outside the arena, so the spark of recognition in her son's eyes was no surprise. "You're that knight I spoke to. You're marrying my mother? Grand!" His enthusiasm was heartening to see and his response to the girls a joy. He'd turned his head to them. "I should properly introduce myself then. I'm Miles Owen Thatcher."

They'd curtseyed and given their full names to him in soft voices. Genevieve was the eldest and looked the most like her father. She had the same turn of the eyes and the same high, sculpted cheekbones. Despite being younger than Miles, she was nearly his height, a sturdy frame to her. Jocelyn had no doubt that Genevieve was Adhemar's daughter. As for Ana, it was harder to tell. There was not much of Adhemar in her in appearance save the thick black curled hair. Where her sister was tall and solid, Ana was tiny and delicate. Yet, her expression when she'd studied Jocelyn was pure Adhemar, cool and appraising and surprising for a child only five.

That expression was turned her way now, her arms releasing Miles and raising to Jocelyn. "Pick me up?"

Jocelyn did. The girl was light in her arms, resting her head on Jocelyn's shoulder and yawning loudly. "You're tired, aren't you, Ana?"

"She doesn't like to get up in the mornings," Nicholas whispered in her ear, herding the group of them over to the side to wait for mass. "Ana is my little slug-a-bed, aren't you poppet?"

The girl raised her head, peered at her father with a grin and buried her face again in Jocelyn's shoulder. Jocelyn felt a grin stretching her lips. The girl was endearing. Both girls, she corrected herself. Both seemed willing to accept Jocelyn as their new mother and Miles as their brother. This new life was off to a wonderful start.

* * *

The day was done and Jocelyn and Nicholas retreated to the privacy of the chamber. The children were all settled in for the night and there was nothing to interrupt them. Jocelyn faced him, swallowing hard. He was a stranger and yet he was not, this man who'd guided her into a healing state. "Well," she began, trailing off when no thoughts formed into sentences on her tongue.

"Well," he replied, nodding and crossing to her. He didn't seem to know any more than she what to say, so they stared at each other.

She took a step closer to him, wanting to stretch out her hands and place them on his chest, yet not knowing how to make herself move. She wasn't frightened or nervous particularly. She'd gotten to know him well enough in a few days to be fairly comfortable around him. Where to begin though? They were wed, husband and wife. Well, they'd be fully so by morning. The idea brought a warm flush to her skin, a warmth that she could feel creeping over her. She was ready for this.

He stepped close, the hands that cupped her jaw trembling the slightest bit. Why? Jocelyn tilted her head back to look up at him, meeting his gaze with her own. He'd always seemed so self-assured to her, not the sort to tremble when he touched a woman. It seemed out of place to her, but his eyes were full of hot promises and desperate need, the kiss he pressed to her lips reflecting both. Jocelyn slipped her arms about him, her hands flat on his back. She was determined to enjoy this, to feel every sensation --

He released her, unwound her arms from him and walked to the window, opening the panel wide. "Go to bed, Jocelyn." Nicholas' voice was unsteady, rough and velvet at the same time.

"Without you?" A confused frown pulled at her brow. He would follow her, yes? Once she was in bed, then he'd join her. He wanted to give her time to prepare herself.

"Without me."

Her hopes fell, crashed hard like a stone from a cliff onto the rocks below. She wanted him to join her, wanted more than anything right now for her new husband to take her in his arms and make her his. This would have to be sometime, now the proper moment. "Why?" She went to him, hand grasping his arm, trying to turn him so she could see his face. There were times, she'd noticed, when he forgot to mask his emotions and every thing he felt slid over his face. Usually that happened only when he was with his daughters, but Jocelyn had glimpsed emotion when he looked at her. What emotion that was precisely she didn't know him well enough to venture a guess. "Tell me why."

He kept his face turned away, refusing to answer. If he hoped she'd give up and go to bed out of frustration, then he had another thing coming. Jocelyn wasn't going to let him ignore her question. He was going to answer her if she had to stay awake all night to get him to do so. "Answer me, Nicholas."

At his name, he turned to consider her. Exasperation played on his features. "Because I can still see Thatcher's ghost here with us." Her hand was pushed from his sleeve, a grimace twisting his lips. "Can you imagine how it is for me Jocelyn? I want you even more now than I did back then. I have imagined this night so many times these past days; brought forth those imaginings to keep me company while you slept. I could have joined you in that bed. I couldn't. I wanted to so badly that I am aching, am still aching, but I _can't_."

He began to pace, energetic strides that carried him to the door and back in seconds. "Every time I touch you, I can see Thatcher right here in the room, his brow turned down in a frown, that voice inquiring how I can think of touching you."

"I _am_ ready." She insisted. "I've accepted he's gone. I've accepted I must move on and...and...we married this morning. This morning I vowed to have you as husband. I went willingly to you. You've no call to feel guilty; no reason to feel Will would disapprove." She hadn't thought she'd have to coax him into bed.

He was nodding, heaving a long sigh. "I know. You may be ready, Jocelyn sweet, but I, apparently, am not." Coming to her, her took the fastenings from her hair, set them on the table, then ran his hands through the long length of her hair. She almost purred at how good the tiny caress felt. "I'll have to work through this myself. There is still much I need to reconcile with him."

She stilled his hands, staring up at him. "And how do you plan to reconcile with a ghost? Like I, Will forgave you long ago. We talked much those first couple years about that tournament season and decided that we could understand the 'why' of your behavior. Youth, Nicholas, can be a curse in some ways and we were all young then." He showed no signs of wavering from his decision to leave her alone, his expression gone shuttered. Jocelyn worked her fingers through his until they were entwined. "Besides, how do you think I can behave happily wed if I cannot consider myself wed?"

Jocelyn waited for his reply.

* * *

She thought she was being so very sly. He'd told the truth though. Thatcher's ghost had left Jocelyn only to transfer his attention to Nicholas. That was not to say that he didn't truly want Jocelyn. Oh no, he wanted her. Her nearness effected him to such a degree that he was shaking with need for her. It had been a long time since he'd allowed himself to feel so much for a woman. When he'd married Rochelle, he'd hoped to feel such grand, sweeping passion for her, but frankly, she'd left him cold. It was a miracle from God that he'd been able to stay warmed enough in their bed to get her pregnant twice. In the beginning, he'd had hopes and those hopes had died a quick death.

For this woman, though, he felt that passion Rochelle never inspired. The longer he was alone with Jocelyn, the more he thought that perhaps they _could_ have more than that business relationship they'd discussed. He liked her. She would be a good mother to his children and, he thought, a good wife. She was already beginning on both accounts.

Genevieve and Ana seemed to like her. Ana didn't go to just anyone. In fact, she usually only wanted him or her nurse to hold her. She'd gone to Jocelyn that morning, raised her hands and asked to be picked up. Jocelyn hadn't hesitated, bending and picking up the girl as though she did so every day. The sight of her holding Ana raised his hopes. He could imagine, easily now, her pregnant, or holding a babe of their own. He greatly wanted to see both those things occur.

But first he had to exorcise Thatcher.

She had a point. How did he plan to reconcile with a ghost? There were things he should have said to the man when he'd lived; things he should have written. An apology for trying to murder him, for one. By all rights, he should have jotted that off straight away. He hadn't though. Why? His pride had hurt. Being beaten in that spectacular fashion had been almost degrading. His pride had been so beaten to a pulp that he'd been ripe for Rochelle's advances and the offer her family tendered to him.

Pride had always been one of his biggest sins.

Youth was a curse in some ways, she was right again. There was reckless brashness in youth that an older age didn't carry usually. He fervently prayed that sort of eagerness was gone from him. Her hands twined in his.

What did she mean she can't consider herself wed? "The vows are spoken. We're wed." He gritted the words out. She wasn't like Rochelle, he had to remind himself of that. Jocelyn would not seek out another man and mock her vows. It was an irrational fear and he knew it as such.

"I won't feel wed if you do not come to bed this night." She meant it too, an earnest light in her eyes. Did she really think marriage was defined alone by the sex act? That didn't make them married anymore than sleeping in the same bed or living in the same house would. What made them married were the vows, the affirmation before God and witnesses that they pledged to each other alone for the rest of their lives.

"It's the vows that wed us, Jocelyn, not what happens that night."

She licked her lips. "I know. The church won't consider us --"

"The church is not here with us."

"I'll have to confess that we didn't--"

"According to who? How is it the business of the church what we do this night?" He let go of her hands, untangled his fingers from her hair. "I've not seen waiting to consummate the vows listed anywhere as a sin in the Bible." As he spoke, her hands unfastened his coat and then his shirt, slipping inside the shirt to slide along his chest. "Jocelyn."

"It's too much like a rejection," she blurted out, gaze falling to watch her fingers trace patterns on his chest.

"I'm not rejecting you, you know that." Nicholas put his arms around her, drawing her close to him.

She clutched the fabric. "At least come to bed with me. Stay beside me. Give me an illusion if you must."

He wanted to refuse her, to hold fast to the exorcism he had to perform, for he knew that lying beside her would be a temptation he couldn't resist. To crawl beneath those sheets with her tonight was to toss his resolution to reconcile with Thatcher's ghost right out the window. He stared down into her eyes and couldn't say no. "Very well."

The smile that turned her lips was filed with delight, the happiness of a woman who's request has been granted. She really did want this night. That she was definitely setting aside the past in favor of moving forward caused a warmth to build in his chest. She set about readying for bed, practically tossing off her dress with an enthusiasm that was almost girlish. He moved slower, sliding naked beneath the sheets after blowing out the last of the candles.

* * *

Jocelyn nestled against him, putting her head on his shoulder. She ran her hand over his chest, feeling the crisp hairs beneath her palm. His skin was firm and warm, chest rising and falling with breathes that weren't quite slow enough to convince her he was unaffected by their proximity. She smiled under the cover of darkness.

This time, her seduction of him would not go awry.

She set herself to that task and was not disappointed.

* * *

How was he to reconcile with Thatcher?

Nicholas watched his wife sleep and contemplated that little problem. His resolve had gone the second bare skin had met bare skin, just as he'd thought it would.

She was his. Finally.

The realization though, didn't give him any real satisfaction. All that slipped through his veins was a content warmth. The reason? Quite simple.

Thatcher was still with them.

Tossing aside the covers, he got up from the bed and went to the pitcher and basin in the corner. Nicholas poured a shallow bit of water into the basin, then cupped his hands in the coolness and bent, splashing it on his face. A soft linen cloth was used to dry with and spread out before the fire to dry.

He needed to form a plan for exorcism. Having Thatcher here wasn't an option. He didn't need to be constantly reminded of what he had been in the past. Several ideas tripped about his mind and he considered each in turn.

Miles. He'd be a father to the boy and treat him as well as he could, walking the careful line of stepfather. He'd make certain Miles didn't forget his real father. That, he thought, along with caring for Jocelyn, would go far in sending the ghost away, but there was still more. There was always more, he'd found.

Thatcher's friends. Several had gone away after the venom of Thomas fell upon them. Jocelyn had already begun several letters to them, only to growl in frustration when the words she wanted wouldn't come to her. What should he do? Write them. He'd write them all in turn and invite them to come to see her and even stay if it would please all parties. She'd like that.

Nicholas sank into the chair before the fire, staring at the wall. He didn't particularly care if more people were added to his household now. Rochelle's family had coaxed many servants away soon after her death and his house was running well only due to the efforts of a strong core of loyal servants. There was room for more.

He knew Jocelyn's friends were peasants and he also knew they were well trained. The former didn't bother him as much as it once had and the latter was a fortunate turn of events if they would stay.

Yes, he would work to those two ends. Miles and Jocelyn's friends. And then he'd see where he stood with Thatcher.

* * *

Kate stared at the piece of paper her lover held in his hand. For just a moment, she wished her life had not turned out the way it had. It was hell to be dependant upon the goodwill of her lover's wife. Philippa didn't seem to mind the time Geoff spent with Kate though. Indeed, when Kate had arrived, the woman had practically thrown them at each other, insisting rather stridently that they renew their acquaintance. That is, when Geoff wasn't off on errands for King and country.

The happy and loving couple she remembered was no more and she had no idea what had come to pass that led them to live separate lives. Geoff wouldn't speak of it, the hurt that clouded his eyes when Philippa dismissed him from her presence almost more than Kate could bear. She wanted to scream at the woman and shake her, for how could she treat her husband with such coldness? Instead, she stood silent all the while, uncommenting and attempting to soothe the ache within him in the privacy of the small apartment she'd been given.

He spent much time with her and occasionally even seemed like his old self. He would laugh and joke, witty and often sarcastic quips flying from his lips with such ease.... She sighed, cutting a piece of apple he'd brought her and biting into the tart fruit. As much as she liked the rapport they shared and the time she laid safe in the circle of his arms, this letter brought news she'd never hoped to hear on many levels.

Jocelyn had remarried. The letter wasn't from her though, it was from Count Adhemar, the man she'd chosen to wed.

"Such a grimace, Kate. One would think you'd bitten into a squiggly worm with that bite." Geoff set the letter on the table and came to her, laying his arm about her shoulders and guiding her to her bed. They sat, Kate still holding the apple and knife, Geoff pressing tiny kisses along her temple and cheek. The beard he'd grown sometime over the years tickled and scratched at the same time. She didn't think she'd ever get used to seeing him with it. Personally, she preferred him clean shaven. "Did you?"

"No worm Geoff." Turning her head slightly, she gave him a half smile, pressing the last bite of the apple slice to his lips. He took it, chewed and swallowed, then sighed as well.

"You don't have to go. Jocelyn will understand. I doubt she even expects you to come."

If he was trying to talk her out of going, then he was doing a poor job of it. He knew damn well that she never broke a promise unless forced to and she'd promised Jocelyn she'd return if the woman needed her. It's what friends did and Kate had taken the chance to befriend Jocelyn long years earlier. It had taken awhile, but they'd worked out the class barrier between them, something Will had been delighted to help with. Jocelyn's friendship had given Kate the chance to frequently indulge in the feminine side of herself. She'd been able to talk of women's things, something being in the constant company of men didn't bring about.

"I do have to. If nothing else, I should go to have my curiosity appeased. Why did she marry him, of all people?"

Geoff glanced away with a pensive frown. "I've heard rumors over the years about him. Whether they're true or not, I've no idea. He married, had children and was not happy. It happens to the best of us." His teeth dragged along his lower lip and he took the apple from her, turning it this way and that. "I've been here too long. Philippa needs time from me again."

Kate took the apple back and stuck the knife in it before setting it on the floor. Getting onto her knees beside him, she ran a hand through his hair, ruffled it. She could almost guess what he was going to say and the idea was both joyous and sad. Joyous for she'd have him to herself and sad because, for every minute they were together there'd be ten times that in parting.

She loved him, loved the writer, the poet, the chronicler of life. She'd loved him longer than she'd care to admit even in the most hidden part of her mind. It still amazed her that he'd professed to feel some bit of emotion for her, a declaration he'd proclaimed many times in the night and during the daylight hours.

Would he understand the other reason she must leave, that underlying real reason that plagued her thoughts in unceasing torrent? Kate thought perhaps he would. Philippa would not always be so generous to her husband's mistress. There would come a day when Philippa would realize the love she'd once felt for Geoff hadn't died and then Kate would need to be far from this place. Kate didn't want Philippa for an enemy, not that woman with her high court friends.

"I'll go with you. See you settled."

Yes, he understood. It was there in his eyes and in the sad tinge to his voice. Their time together was coming to an end.

* * *

The letter didn't surprise Roland, not really. He'd known it wouldn't take Jocelyn's brother long to wed her off. Jocelyn was still a handsome woman and age had only increased her attractiveness. She was still a prize, even after a decade. Nor was he surprised to find Adhemar had been the lucky man.

Gossip was a way of life at court and with Princess Joan's entourage, he'd heard more than his share of gossip about the man. It seemed he was unable to remain out of public eye despite secluding himself at his home. Not his desire or his fault, but rather his dead wife's doing. She'd done her best to spite Adhemar and nearly succeeded in breaking him financially, if all rumors were to be believed.

Laboriously, he again made out each word of the letter, glad Christiana had taught him to read over the years. He was slow in reading, but it was a skill he enjoyed having. Of course, he'd never bothered with writing, just the reading.

Roland set the letter aside and picked up the dress he was embroidering for the princess. She hadn't needed another person in her household, least of all a man with four children with him, but she'd accepted him there most graciously, giving him a job embroidering her clothes. He had a home and all the children were well. Missing, was Christiana.

She'd be with Jocelyn still. Should he go and risk losing favor with Joan? Yes. She'd known straight away about his promise to Jocelyn and agreed that if that day came, he could leave and she'd not be angry.

The day had come.

Getting up, he decided the dress was done. He'd take it to her and broach the subject while there. In minutes, he was with her and she and her ladies were admiring the work he'd done, just as they did every time he brought a finished dress.

Joan looked up. "This is absolutely beautiful, Roland."

"Thank you, my lady." He hesitated, but the princess was a keen observer of people and quietly told her ladies to give them a minute. One by one, the women moved away to give a semblance of privacy. There really was no such thing here. Every word they said was heard by at least two or three people and he knew that by the time he reached his rooms, the news of his leaving would have already spread about the home.

"Now," she began. "Does this look of uncertainty on your face have anything to do with the letter that arrived for you?"

"Yes, it does."

"Lady Jocelyn or your wife?"

"Lady Jocelyn." A sadness came into Joan's eyes and he went on. "She's remarried and her husband says she needs her friends with her. She's lonely. I promised I'd go if she needed me, like we all promised. I can't ignore the letter."

Joan nodded. "I know." A sigh slipped from her. "I am forever losing good men and women around me. Be safe in your travels, Roland, and come back if you can. You and Christiana are welcome here."

By the following morning, he, and the children, had set out.


	2. Chapter Two

Title: Trial By Fire

Chapter: Two

Author: kasey8473

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

* * *

"Well, if it isn't 'Master Falhurst'."

Wat, in the midst of a full out fit of rage, stopped punching his opponent long enough to register the familiar tall blond man and shorter black haired woman that stood watching his fight. He registered, but didn't let their appearance stop him from finishing his brawl. Moments later, when his opponent sagged heavily to the ground, Wat pointed at the blond man, grinning despite himself.

"You, get over here. You need a good fonging no doubt." Going to the fence that separated them, he took in the two he'd not seen in a long while. "Kate. Geoff." Kate was little changed from the last time he'd seen her over a year earlier. There were gray streaks in her hair now, but she was still as pretty as ever. Geoff though. That man had changed. He wasn't as skinny as he'd been years earlier, his hair gone darker and a beard along his jaw. He looked like he'd walked through hell and decided to stop there for a bit. Wat put his hand over his mouth to cover up the grin that would not go away. "Why are you here?"

"You've no word from Jocelyn?" Kate asked.

He looked at her. Her dark eyed gaze still managed to make him feel like he was a stripling lad seeing a woman for the first time and he shifted his weight. He'd managed to keep from revealing his feelings for her for too long to start now. Kate would never know the reason he'd never married was her. Oh, he'd had flings here and there, but never considered marrying any of those women. They weren't her. Wat had always thought Will to be stupid in regards to love, but he was even worse in that he couldn't even admit to the feeling. Kate had always let him down so gently when he'd propositioned her that he'd found himself wishing she'd accept just one time. Wat shook his head. "No. Are she and Miles --"

"They're living and well." The expression on Geoff's face forestalled any questions. This was a private matter. "We need to discuss a few recent developments though."

The glance the two exchanged intrigued him to no end and Wat motioned with a hand. "Well come on. Come see the tavern then. We'll have a drink and talk a bit."

Upon taking his leave of Jocelyn and Miles, he'd followed a life-long dream of his own and bought a tavern. Knowing quite a lot about food and drink helped and his little tavern was getting quite a reputation. The locals visited often and travelers kept the rooms upstairs and the common room filled daily.

"What about him?" Kate indicated the man on the ground.

"Leave him. He refused to pay for his room and food. Richard'll be along any minute to get him packed off."

Richard was a partner of sorts, the calm end of the business, graciously taking payment due after Wat had scared the day from the offender. He had little chance to do so lately, as Wat's no-nonsense pay or else policy had been accepted.

They went into the tavern, Wat getting them drinks and commandeering a table in a somewhat quiet corner. When the two had taken their fill, he leaned forward. "Well?"

Kate looked around the room, her dark eyes holding concern in their depths. "Jocelyn has remarried. She wants us all to come to her."

A huge grin formed on Wat's face. He couldn't help it. This was exceedingly good news. Jocelyn and Will had been very good to him over the years and Jocelyn deserved some happiness after Will's death. She'd been so miserable with that brother of hers, her spirit crushed by the man. It was good to know she was out from under his watch. Raising an arm, he waved Alice, his favorite of the serving wenches, over. "Bring us a platter, Alice, we're celebrating!" The girl nodded and hurried away. "That's great news."

"No, not that great, I'm afraid." Geoff glanced up from his drink. "You've not heard it all."

Wat sat back with a shrug. "So tell me, then."

Kate set a hand on top of Geoff's, a familiar gesture that wasn't lost on Wat. He forced himself to focus on Kate's words. "She's married Adhemar. He's sent the letter, not her."

All the blood drained from Wat's face. He could feel it, feel a coldness come over him. Adhemar. The name still made him angry. In his opinion, the man had gotten everything he'd deserved with that woman he'd married. That Rochelle had been just like Adhemar, a fitting punishment. Just. Fate was good.

Except for this.

Damn.

Alice set a large platter before them and Wat gave a nod of acknowledgement, digging in automatically to the tasty fare. The meat was good, if a bit under spiced and bland. He made a mental note to broach that with Mary later that night.

"What happened? How did that come about?"

Geoff loosed his hand from Kate's, snatched a sliver of meat and sampled it. "The letter only says that they've married and she is pining for companionship of those she holds dear. He'd be pleased if we'd all come to visit."

"Pleased." Kate gave a snort, reaching for one of the sweet pastries just as Wat himself reached for one. Their fingers tangled and he drew his back so she could take a pastry, deciding to keep ignoring the excited thrill that shot through him when they touched in any way.

Time apart hadn't made his attraction to her any less. No, he wanted her more than ever after being away from her. It seemed, though, that he wasn't the only one attracted to Kate. Geoff was rather hands-on with her, those glances they gave each other confirming Wat's impression that Kate and Geoff had become lovers. He took up a roll, tasted it, licked the sweet icing from his fingers and wished he was licking the icing from hers.

The smallest things about Kate had fascinated him the longer they were in each other's company. That proposition in London, the first one he'd given her, had been only a thought really. He didn't fall hard for her until many more months had passed. But he couldn't admit it. Not aloud. Not to anyone. He continued to eat, to fight, to force himself to remain the Wat that everyone knew and was comfortable with.

He'd grown up. He'd stopped obsessing over food in such an excessive manner, turning his thoughts to contemplation on running a tavern.

Wat took a sip of his drink, then nodded. "I'll inform Richard I've a trip to take. He'll gladly watch this place for a bit." He met first Kate's eyes, then Geoff's. "I'm only going to make sure he's being good to her. If he's not, we'll bring her and Miles back with us."

Geoff held out a hand. "Agreed."

Wat took it and, after a moment, Kate laid her hand on top of theirs. "Agreed."

* * *

Jocelyn had half expected Nicholas to dump them on the doorstep of his home and run off as quickly as he could to return to tournament. That didn't happen however. He graciously took her, Miles and Christiana around the manor and the grounds in a tour that his steward could have performed just as easily. He pointed out places Miles might want to play and made certain she and Christiana both knew where each work station was located. They toured the buttery, the kitchens, the laundry and other areas. Jocelyn was able to appreciate an efficiently run home.

There were military personal that lived in large rooms along the edge of the manor walls. These were the men Nicholas took with him into battle; who were loyal to the family and vowed to protect these walls. The ministerial and domestic staff were one and the same, comprised of the domestic steward, the chaplain, the chamberlain....The list went on and on until Jocelyn was dizzy from it all. This household was bigger than her home and had far more offices involved in its running.

She learned there were two stewards here. The domestic steward and then one involved only in the estate. After Will's extremely small holding, this estate was overwhelming. When they finished the tour, Jocelyn still wasn't sure which steward she'd need to see every morning.

Jocelyn spent some time in the small solar on the main floor. Adhemar had declared that the room was hers to do with as she chose. It had been his mother's favorite room and he'd managed to keep Rochelle from redecorating it upon his mother's death. It was a pleasant room, though looked to have been the victim of furniture scavenging. There were only two chairs and one low table. Jocelyn decided she'd change that eventually. There was plenty of time in which to do so.

She went to the window and looked out. Miles was settling in remarkably well. She could see him in the courtyard, playing tag with the girls and an old, mostly blind, dog. Their joyous laughter spilled in through the window. Children adapted quickly to any circumstances she'd found. The three children behaved as though they'd grown up to this point as siblings. A smile tugged at her lips. If only it were so simple for adults.

Another agreement of sorts had been reached between herself and Nicholas. She was the lady of the manor and he'd see that she knew everything in regards to her domain. What her domain was in entirety was still a bit fuzzy and unclear, but Jocelyn was confident she could have that figured out soon. Nicholas was still the lord and therefore the head of the household. Decisions made by her would have to go through him and they'd meet jointly with the steward each morning.

Honestly, he'd given her more equality than she'd thought he would. She'd fully expected him to renege on his promise and tell her she had to sit sewing all day, locked up in a room by herself. On the contrary, Nicholas had outlined a generous proposal that gave her more freedom in the household decisions than was considered proper by societal standards.

She crossed her arms. He was doing everything in his power to make this period of adjustment easy on her. That was all well and good though she kept wondering when the man she remembered from years past would decide to show himself. He couldn't have been obliterated completely by time. No, this generous turn wouldn't last and she had to remember that. If she let herself become complacent, he'd be able to slowly exert power over her and she'd wake one day to find that all of these privileges he gave her had been snatched away in little increments. On that day, she really would be a lone woman locked in a tower.

If she had her way, that day would not come.

* * *

The man Roland was the first to arrive, reaching the manor with not only the messenger than had been sent to him, but also four mischievous urchins. Roland good naturedly curtailed them all and they obeyed the only slightly stern command to cease their running so their mother could hug and kiss them properly.

Christiana's children were a happy bunch Nicholas discovered. He stayed only long enough to politely greet them and get several sticky handprints on his clothing. He left them all to Christiana.

Though he'd claimed work beckoned him, there was nothing that needed his immediate attention. He was alone with his own company and it was almost a relief when Genevieve came running in carrying an armful of dolls fashioned from wood and cloth.

"Mary said I could play with these," was her explanation. After a long and thoroughly roundabout conversation, Nicholas was able to ascertain that the Mary in question was Christiana's daughter and that she and Genevieve were well on their way to becoming fast friends despite only having met a short while earlier.

He was drawn into playing with her. Half the dolls were pushed his way on the table, an expectant gleam in Genevieve's eyes. Nicholas suggested they move to the floor for more comfort, his daughter readily agreeing.

"Now," she began in a serious tone as soon as they'd seated themselves. "We'll play tournament. Here are the ladies." She pointed, indicating two small dolls set off to one side. "These," her tiny hand pointed at the rest of the dolls, "Are the squires and the knights."

"All of them?"

She rolled her eyes with a grin. "There are quite a few competitors, you know."

"Oh, I see." He set up his own side, placing one doll in the center of several others.

"No, no. That's not right."

He looked up to find her lips were pursed and a critical expression upon her face. "What's not?"

"The set up. There are only two on the field on each side."

"According to who?"

"Me."

His daughter, the expert. Nicholas had to laugh at her smug tone. "Very well then. Only two." He remedied the situation, taking away all but two of the dolls. Genevieve made a noise of satisfaction.

They became engrossed in their game. First, the dolls fought with pretend swords, then they mounted pretend horses for an imaginary joust. As the game progressed, Nicholas became uncomfortably aware that Genevieve had cast his dolls as the villains and hers as the heroes. She added in sound effects. There were spoken 'clangs' and 'crashes' when imaginary swords or lances met and the lady dolls cheered whenever Genevieve's dolls won. How was that for fate's humor? His own daughter cast him as a bad man.

"Why do I have to be the villain, Genevieve?" He was curious as to what her answer would be. It didn't seem likely to him that Jocelyn would tell her of the past.

"Because." She gave a merry laugh. "The villain is _always_ dark haired. Don't you listen to the stories Germaine recites in the hall?"

"Not usually. As a herald, Germaine is decent, but as a storyteller, he tends to lose track of his own plot."

She began gathering the dolls together. "Not the ones he makes up. The stories he's learned from others. The hero is always blond and noble in character and the villain dark haired and wretched." She gave a snort now, as though she thought he should have figured that out himself.

"So according to that, I can't be a hero."

"Not in _fiction_, daddy." Genevieve crawled across to him, gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then took up the dolls. "I'm going to find Miles. _He_ knows how to play tournament properly."

Apparently, real tournament experience meant nothing he reflected, also getting up from the floor and stretching a little to relieve muscles that had become stiff from sitting on cool stone. He sometimes missed being young. The ability to spring up from the ground without needing to stretch was sorely missed at times.

Scarce had he returned to his seat at the table than there was a soft knock at the door. He smiled. That must be Jocelyn. He'd been waiting for her to come to him about the man who'd arrived. "Come."

It was not Jocelyn, but rather Christiana. She stepped inside. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn't wipe at them. It was almost as though she'd cried so long that she'd ceased to realize she still cried. Nicholas waited.

Her expression was contrite and filled with guilt. "I've done you a great injustice, my lord. I've misjudged you and I must apologize and thank you for my family."

He adjusted the plump cushion behind his back. "You accurately judged me initially, Christiana. There was no error on your part then. You've simply failed to take into account the passing years into my character. 'Tis all. And as for your family, if you are happy, you'll serve my wife all the better, no?"

She made no comment.

"Besides, your husband is accomplished in many areas that will benefit this household."

A flicker of understanding dawned in her eyes and she suppressed a smile with obvious difficulty. "I believe I do understand, my lord."

"Have Roland report to Marc in the morning. Your boys may go with Rose while you're both about your duties. The girl, Mary I believe her name was, may be tutored with Genevieve. She'll be a suitable maid for my daughter when they are older, like you with Jocelyn." Marc was the domestic steward and if he didn't have a place Roland was suited for, then Henry in the military staff did. Rose was the nurse in charge of the peasant children whose parents both worked in the manor. He leaned back in the chair. "Over these weeks, we'll decide where your other children would best be placed."

Christiana nodded, clasping her hands together. "Thank you, my lord."

With a flick of his hand, he dismissed her and wondered why the encounter had left him slightly drained -- the same way he always felt after political negotiations before a battle.

* * *

It was late when Nicholas came to their chamber. Jocelyn had expected such and purposely put off going to bed herself. She waited, sitting up in bed with the pillows piled behind her back in a wonderfully luxurious lump.

He came in as quietly as he could, moving softly so as not to disturb her. There was mild surprise on his face when he saw she'd stayed awake. He came and sat on the edge of the bed to begin undressing. "You should be asleep."

"I wasn't ready to sleep." Jocelyn moved, crawled across the wide bed to sit behind him. She helped him remove his shirt, then slid her hands along his back in a slow caress. He relaxed a tiny bit and she kneaded her hands up to his shoulders. Long years of practice at this were put to use.

Nicholas sighed. "Has Christiana's family settled in?"

She pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, pausing to run a hand through his black curls. "You gave them a cottage."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"Yes, they did. Nicholas, a cottage?"

He turned on the bed's edge, one hand slipping across her stomach to grasp her waist. "Are you objecting?"

"Well no." She had no objection. In fact, she was as ecstatic as Christiana over the development. She'd assumed the family would be crammed into one of the lower rooms with other servants.

Christiana had burst into the solar with tears on her cheeks and, at first, Jocelyn had thought something was amiss. Then, Christiana had taken her hands and tugged her out into the hall. Jocelyn smiled at the picture they must have made running through the halls, one calm woman and one crying and laughing one. They'd run across the courtyard towards a cottage Jocelyn knew had been in bad repair very recently and scheduled to be torn down for the wood and materials to be used elsewhere.

It was being repaired, workers re-thatching the roof and repairing the walls. Christiana had jerked her to a stop, raising a hand and waving towards the structure. "Look!"

"Yes, I see it," she'd replied.

"He says it's ours now." Christiana then indicated Marc, the steward. He gave a stoic nod and walked away.

It was not often the Jocelyn saw Christiana speechless. Her maid and friend had been most definitely speechless.

Jocelyn pressed a kiss to her husband's cheek. "Thank you, Nicholas."

He shook his head, an unreadable expression in his eyes. "Don't attribute noble intentions to it, Jocelyn. Christiana wishes to stay with you, yet pines for her family. It is efficient and of benefit to this household to have them all here with her. Her husband--"

She placed her fingers over his lips. "Shh. I know." She'd realized that already. Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and laid her head against him. "I know."

* * *

The children were asleep, a wonder Roland thought, with all the excitement. They'd run about like little animals, eager to explore their new home. And it would be their home. He'd not move them again unless Christiana wished they move. Not without her though, not ever again. They were a family and without her, they very nearly ceased to be so. He disliked being both father and mother to them.

He ran a hand along her bare arm, kissed her pale smooth shoulder, and inhaled the scent of lavender. She snuggled back against him, a welcome press. Roland sighed. "Lord, wife, I've missed you."

"Mmm...and I you." He could hear the smile in her voice. "I can hardly believe you're here."

"We are certainly here and I'll not go again." Roland raised up on his arm, giving a gentle tug upon her until she rolled onto her back to look up at him. He couldn't see her well in the gloom, but that didn't particularly matter. "What do you make of this?"

"He's making amends, I think, without wanting to seem as if he is."

"Amends to who?" It could not be so simple. The Adhemar Roland remembered would not have even considered apologizing to a peasant.

Her fingertips touched his face, traced his features, then stroked his beard. "Jocelyn? I don't know. He's not what he was, I'm finding. I mean," a pensive breath escaped her lips, "that he seems to consider more those things he used to not. He trusted me to pack Jocelyn and Miles' belongings, giving me free reign in the decision on what to bring and what to leave with Thomas."

"You said once that he was never cruel to you or unkind."

"Not directly, no."

"His manner to you still makes sense though. You're Jocelyn's maid. He'd be courteous to you in any regard."

Her laughter came out as a snort. "Uh-huh. A decade ago, he was rude as all get out to other maids and kind to me."

Roland smiled under the cover of darkness. "You _are_ a pretty wench."

"Wench is it?" Her hands curved about his neck, drawing him down for a lingering kiss.

"He likes pretty women, Christiana. Of course, what man doesn't?"

"Each man's definition of pretty is different, the same as each woman's view of handsome." Another kiss, her hands moving along his shoulders. "I'm weary of talking about him, Roland. We've much better things to discuss."

"Like what," he asked with playful intonation.

"Like....What are we going to do now that we have four sleeping children that sleep like the dead?"

He chuckled, sliding a hand up her side. "We'll think of something."

* * *

Chess was a game that Jocelyn adored. It took a sound mind to plan a strategy that would beat the opponent and she'd become quite good at the game over the years. Will used to say that she was unbeatable at it and, until now, she'd assumed it true. It had never occurred to her that he'd ever let her win. That thought now crossed her mind as Nicholas backed her into a corner and she found she had no real option that would allow her to win the game.

"You beast," she muttered.

Nicholas gave her a gentle smile and a raised brow. "Me?"

"Yes, you." Resting her elbows on the table, she put her chin in her hands, frowning. There was no move she could make. Okay, there were a couple, but nothing that wouldn't clear the way for him.

He poured spiced wine into their cup and took a sip. "Would you like me to teach you the finer points of the game, Jocelyn?"

She glanced at him, rude retort hovering upon her lips. His expression was not supercilious as she'd expected, but rather teasing. He was teasing her. The thought was a bit ludicrous to her at first and she slowly warmed to it. Nicholas Adhemar teasing someone; a woman at that. A loud laugh left her before she could stop it and she clapped a hand over her mouth when several servants gawked in their direction. Jocelyn took a moment to compose herself before shaking her head.

"Thank you, but I need no help."

The game was finished quickly and set up for another round. Nicholas took one of her hands in his, laced their fingers together. "You play a good game, Jocelyn. I've not had a good opponent at chess in a long time. You were...difficult to beat. A challenge. Most I play with seem too afraid of me to give me a decent game. Not so you."

Her gaze lowered to the table. An awkwardness settled upon her, brought forth from her remembrances of playing chess with Will. She'd taught him the game, thinking he'd like the use of strategy it required, and was correct. He'd never hesitated to sit and play a game with her. It passed the free time they did have in an enjoyable manner. Will had picked up the game rather quickly and only beaten her once at it.

Jocelyn had assumed it was her skill. But had it really been his? Another way for him to keep her happy? "I thought I was good at it."

"You are." Nicholas released her hand. "Where are your thoughts?"

"My thoughts?" The question startled her and she sat back. "What do you mean?"

Curiosity glittered in his eyes. "For a brief moment there, you were not here. Where were you?"

Instinct told her to tell him it was not his business, but a cooler thought prevailed. He was her husband. He had a right to ask on her thoughts. Jocelyn's tongue slipped out to wet her lips. "I was thinking that perhaps Will let me win when we played chess."

The reminder of Will had to be an annoyance to him, she realized, yet he didn't roll his eyes or turn away. Instead, he pursed his lips and contemplated the idea. "It could be," he relied slowly. "If it was important to you to excel in the game, then I suppose, to make you happy, he engineered your success." A playful gleam eclipsed the curiosity. "I, however, won't let you win. You'll have to polish that skill, and I daresay, you'll give me a good race each time." Now, he pushed back from the table and stood. "I have some contracts I must look over. I'll see you this evening."

Nicholas came around the table and gave her a kiss before striding from the hall. Jocelyn remained at the table, thinking on the afternoon she'd just spent with him. It was a different sort of time than she'd spent with Will. Nicholas was an odd mix of formality and coarseness. He could be bawdy and crude, then turn right around and behave with a stiffness that proper manners sometimes brought about. There was even an awkwardness to him at times that was, she had to admit, charming.

She had much to consider and wondered how soon until the rest of her friends arrived.


	3. Chapter Three

Title: Trial By Fire

Chapter: Three

Author: kasey8473

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Notes: Guinevere posed a question (thank you!) in her review: why does Adhemar have a different name in each of my stories? Simple really and a quirk of mine. His first name is different in order to emphasize that each story is a different view of Adhemar as a man, looking at the diverse and sometimes subtle ways his character could be taken from the original story. It's also easier to keep story plots separate when I'm writing two or three at a time if he doesn't have the same first name in each. It's the same with Christiana's last name. It changes to keep that particular view of the character apart from others as I write.

* * *

"We're taking her and leaving," Wat hissed, not pausing in his pacing of the area where the three travelers had been tossed pending the return of the lord of the manor. They'd been told that the lord and lady had gone hunting and would not be back for awhile. The guards at the gate turned them away, refusing to let them inside the courtyard to wait. It was then that the fight had begun, landing them where they now were; a fight that both Wat and Geoff had entered into with enthusiasm while Kate stood to one side. "I don't care if she even looks decently taken care of."

Kate sighed and cast a worried glance at Geoff. The cut on his brow was still bleeding and he'd not said a single word since the fight upon their arrival at Adhemar's home. He ignored Wat's angry words and jerked away from her when she went to tend him. That left her with nothing to do but watch Wat pace. "We should have sent word back that we were coming."

Now Geoff laughed, a harsh sound, and looked up. Disillusionment played heavily upon his face. "Most peasants don't strut up to the gates and demand to be let in to see the lord, then take exception when they are refused. I'm not surprised they decided to hold us, though I'd hoped for a better reception."

The pen they were in was at the far end of the manor, backed up against the tall wall of the building and guarded by several of the men who'd fought Wat and Geoff. Kate turned slowly, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone she recognized. "They didn't have to beat you, Geoff."

"I haven't been in an honest-to-God fight like that in years, Kate. It was bracing."

She snorted at the light of enjoyment that came into his gaze. "It was childish. The best path would have been to be respectful and accepting of waiting. Did it really make a difference to wait inside? No. Inside, outside. No difference. " Strolling to Wat, she put a hand out and snagged his arm, stopping his strides back and forth. "You've been an innkeeper, Wat. You know how to act or you'd not be as successful as you are. What happened?"

It was an honest query. Sure, she knew Wat was volatile at times, but to come here and let his temper blaze before even seeing Jocelyn? They didn't even know yet if Jocelyn and Miles were well.

Regret flickered for a moment as a shadow upon his features, then slipped away. "I lost my temper. Those arrogant voices, the very idea that Jocelyn willingly wed him...."

Kate opened her mouth to answer when a child's voice carried to them.

"It _is_ you! Kate!"

Miles ran across the grass and Kate almost wept at joy of seeing him. She'd missed the boy. He evaded capture from two of the guards and climbed the fence surrounding the area with an agility Kate remembered well. Miles had always been able to shinny up a fence or tree in seconds. Behind him trailed two dark haired little girls who laughed as they watched him. He fell from the top of the fence, picked himself up and launched himself at her, the force nearly sending her sprawling.

She collided with Wat, his arms going about her, bracing them. Kate embraced the boy. "Miles."

"Come out of there, Master Miles," one of the guards said sternly.

"Go play soldier," Miles retorted. As an insult, it was feeble, but the guard recoiled and stalked off around the front of the manor. The remaining men seemed unconcerned with Miles' behavior, returning to their posts.

Miles released Kate and sat on the ground, looking at Wat and Geoff with enthusiasm. "I remember you, Wat, but I don't know him." He pointed at Geoff. "Are you a friend of my mom's too?"

Wat removed his arms from around her and Kate felt a mild chill from the loss. It felt like she'd lost more than just the warmth of his arms. Quickly, she sat beside Miles. Glancing up at Wat, Kate found his regard upon her, something more than friendship revealed in a single second before he covered it over. In that second, Kate realized the depth of Wat's feelings.

Confused, she turned her attention on Miles, trying to convince herself she'd hallucinated. Wat did not have feelings for her. He couldn't. Not when he'd regaled them with tales of his pretty Millie who lived in the town where he'd bought his tavern. She was seeing things that weren't there.

But what if....

Geoff knelt. "Indeed I am. In fact, I knew your mother before she married your father."

"Which one? My real dad or my new one?"

Geoff's expression went blank and then he gave a shaky laugh. "A good question. Both, actually. I knew them both, and your mother. And Christiana and Wat and Kate...."

Miles laughed, grinning. He waved a hand at the two girls. "These are my sisters. Ana and Genevieve."

With a polite nod, Geoff acknowledged both girls and they nodded back. "They're very pretty."

"Mom thinks so too. She says 'they look like their father, thank God.'"

Kate began to laugh. She could almost hear Jocelyn's voice. Her friend would say something like that, although Kate rather thought Miles hadn't been supposed to hear that. "Who'd she say that to?"

"Chrissy. Chrissy didn't agree. She argued that their mother was thought to be very beautiful and any beauty came from her." He scooped up a rock and tossed it in the air, then caught it. "I don't think Chrissy likes my new dad. She always frowns when she thinks he can't see her." He glanced at the girls, then leaned close to Kate and whispered, "_I_ like him though. He gave me a horse, a great big one, and he lets me go riding with him."

Wat joined them on the ground, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankles. "And your mother, does she like him?"

The boy frowned in thought, then shrugged in an unconcerned manner. "I guess. She spends a lot of time with him in their chamber, even in the afternoon and she's always giggling when she comes out. I think they play chess."

Kate exchanged an amused glance with Wat and Geoff. Chess indeed. She rather suspected it was another sort of game those two played. If Jocelyn giggled, then she _must_ be well. "I'm sure they do play chess. Your mother likes that game."

"Yeah, I know." He looked around the pen and tossed the rock towards one of the guards, who deftly sidestepped with a little smile. "So, why are you in here? Why aren't you waiting in the hall?"

"They like fresh air," came Jocelyn's voice from the far side of the pen. She stood there in a mauve gown and surcoat, her hair covered by a matching cap and a smile stretching her lips. She looked very pleased.

Beside her, was Adhemar. Kate gave him a quick glance up and down and saw him little changed in ten years save what one could expect. He said nothing, letting Jocelyn do the talking.

"Go and play Miles. You'll have time later to see them." Jocelyn waited. For a second, her son looked inclined towards mutiny, but then he sighed and left the pen, taking his new sisters with him. When they had gone from the area, Jocelyn's smile faded. She went to the guard at the gate. "Why are they in here?"

"They demanded entry to the manor, my lady. The redhead --"

"You knew very well that I had visitors coming, Fitz."

"My lady, they're dressed like peasants."

"Do we not allow peasants into the manor these days? You let Roland in easily enough."

Adhemar crossed his arms, still unspeaking.

"They were belligerent. For all I knew, they were assassins."

Jocelyn shook her head. "And you're an idiot."

Kate became fascinated by the expression on Adhemar's face. For the most part, it did not change, yet there were tiny differences that indicated what he felt of the conversation. First a gentle lift of one brow and then the pursing of his lips and finally a twitch that indicated humor.

"Would an assassin simply walk up and demand entry? I think not. One intent upon a silent killing would come in under pretense, make himself invisible in the manor and then strike and fade away into the outside. Really, Fitz. Here I thought you were a soldier."

The dark haired Fitz turned to his employer. "My lord...."

"Release them immediately. You've no cause to hold them." Jocelyn rested one hand on the fence.

"My lord!"

Adhemar raised his gaze from the ground and shrugged. "Your lady gave you an order Fitz. Why do you hesitate?"

Kate got to her feet, along with Wat and Geoff. They stood together, arms touching. The gate was opened for them, Jocelyn moving to meet them. One by one, she hugged them and made some remark about how they looked. She paused the longest at Geoff.

"You, Geoff, don't look the same to my eyes as you once did. It has been so long."

"Too long, Jocelyn." His eyes closed briefly at her embrace. "You look as beautiful now as you did the day I left."

Jocelyn hooked her arm through his. "Why Geoff, you flatter me."

"Not undeservedly, my lady."

She walked him towards Adhemar and stopped before him. "I trust you all remember Nicholas Adhemar?"

Geoff was the only one to comment and he did so with the tact he'd once shown at tournament. "A knight known for many noble victories upon the field."

"And many dishonest victories, as I'm sure you all also remember quite clearly," Adhemar remarked, studying each of them in turn. The frank mention of the past shocked Kate a little. "You would be Master Chaucer, since I've been told the red haired man is Wat. This woman is Kate. Yes?" His brows raised in question. A polite conversation, making certain he knew their names.

The absurdity of that was not lost upon Kate. A decade earlier, they were beneath his notice and now he deigned to learn their names.

"Yes." Geoff nodded. "She is Kate, a blacksmith. He is Wat, a tavern owner and I'm Geoffrey Chaucer. Storyteller."

The last word was given an extra emphasis, one Adhemar acknowledged with a low murmur.

"Then you must entertain us during your visit. Jocelyn adores a fine tale and I believe Germaine would be glad for a break in that duty."

"Duty, my lord?" Geoff disentangled himself from Jocelyn's arm and took a step towards the man. "The telling of a tale is not a duty, but a labor of love."

Kate watched with interest as the Geoff she remembered from years ago began to slip back into place. It was a subtle shift, yet there none the less. Perhaps good could come from this visit besides the joy of seeing old friends.

"To tell a tale worthy of the audience, one has to consider the characters and the plot and a myriad other--"

Adhemar held up a hand. "We'll look forward to your labor, Master Chaucer. There's no need to explain it to me." The look he favored Geoff with was one of interest. "You wouldn't be the Chaucer who wrote The Book of the Duchess, would you?"

Geoff smiled, obviously pleased that _someone_ recognized his name in a literary capacity. "Why yes. I am that Geoffrey Chaucer."

"Entertaining," Adhemar drawled, taking Jocelyn's hand in his and walking towards the front of the manor. Jocelyn had no choice but to follow and Kate saw the man's head bend to hers. Whatever he said caused her to jerk from him and run forward. She reached the door long before they, the panel slamming shut behind her.

Kate gave a gentle tug on Wat's arm and they followed their host.

* * *

Geoff hated to admit it, but Nicholas Adhemar was a fine host. Each of them was given a servant to assist during their visit and a handsomely appointed private room. Geoff marveled at a manor house that contained so many bedchambers. It was a sign of staggering wealth to have such privacy, not that he'd doubted that the man was wealthy. Or was, rather. His first wife had quickly gone through his funds it was told.

Jocelyn had asked him to share a short tale with the household after dinner that night and he was more than ready. There were several he wished to tell. Leaving his room, he went in search of Kate. After a long while, he began to wonder just where she'd gotten herself off to. She was not with Jocelyn and Christiana, nor was she with Wat or Roland or the children. Turning on his heel, he asked directions to the blacksmith's cottage.

He found her there, with Count Adhemar being a gracious host in showing her around that area. His man was in town taking care of accounts, so she'd have plenty of time to peruse the work area. It was already arranged for her to join the smith if she chose.

Geoff waited just outside the room, growing quickly bored with the detail the two showed one another in their discussion. He'd have to talk with her later. Shaking his head, he returned to the manor.

By the time the afternoon had passed and the evening meal commenced, Geoff had worked himself up into what his friends would remember as his usual state of storytelling arrogance. This was something he knew and loved. Geoff could work a crowd like few other men. Getting up into the center of the room, stationed before Jocelyn and Adhemar, Geoff began to tell a tale.

He scarcely noticed when Wat shoved his chair back and stalked from the hall, nor did he notice Kate following soon after.

* * *

"Wat! Wait!"

Glancing behind him, Wat found Kate running to catch up with him. Deliberately, he slowed his pace, giving her time to reach him. His blood was boiling and that was the only way to describe how he felt. Was he the only one who hadn't been seduced by Adhemar already?

Jocelyn mooned over the man, giggling and smiling goofily, much like she had with Will and Miles enthusiastically spoke of his 'new dad'. Roland and Christiana seemed ready to forgive him all ills now that he'd provided for them and their children and Geoff was in there expounding some ridiculous tale with relish, acting like he was back at tournament, for God's sake! And Kate....

He studied her as she approached. Truthfully, she didn't look too taken in. In fact, her expression was filled with annoyance.

"You walk so fast, Wat, I can't keep up."

He stopped, glancing around them and finding the courtyard was deserted save for the two guards at the gate. They had freedom to speak honestly. "What of you? Are you complacent now too?"

She looked up at him sharply, eyes flashing anger. "I come out here to see if you're alright and you light into me?"

Wat shook his head. "I'm sorry, Kate. I don't mean...it's just...he...they..." Wat let out a frustrated growl. "Seduction. Of all of us."

She laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Calm down. No one's seducing anyone."

"_He_ is. Don't you see it yet?" Wat spread his arms, indicating the house and the grounds, then the cottage Roland and Christiana lived in. "Don't you? He's working on us all. Jocelyn's eating from his hand, though I suppose Miles doesn't know any better."

Her other hand rested on his chest, rubbing soothingly. "He's being a father that Miles needs and treating Jocelyn rather well."

He rolled his eyes. "Christiana and Roland. Their children. _Geoff_."

Kate blinked. She pursed her lips, glanced away and blinked again.

Wat raised his hand, pointing a finger up towards the night sky. "Ah-hah! You feel so too."

"Geoff enjoys attention." It was not an excuse, only a statement. Kate let her hands drop from him and crossed her arms. "I do think it, a little. But only a little. I don't see the grand scheme you do, but then I never have thought like you." Taking a few steps to the left, she shook her head. "I don't think he means us ill this time, Wat. I think he's older, like all of us, and he's paid for how he was. He's trying now to make amends for those things he did."

Stretching out an hand, he took her arm and led her over to one of the carved wooden benches that sat under the walkway of the defensive wall. They sat together, side by side, hips and thighs wedged together, a cozy position, their heads bent together as they continued their conversation.

Kate absent-mindedly took one of his hands in hers, twining their fingers together. "Have you spoken to Jocelyn alone yet?" At his negative nod, she continued. "She's not complacent, Wat. She's doing what she has to in order to survive. It was either Adhemar or one of several other choices who make me shudder to consider. Adhemar really was the best choice she could have made. She's taking this marriage cautiously. It may look as though she's all sweetness and light with him, but that's not how it is."

"Then how is it?" Her fingers along his palm tickled just a little and he gently eased his hand from hers. It would be too easy to forget that she was Geoff's while they sat so close. Holding her hand was not something he needed to be doing. For that matter, he shouldn't even be pressed up to her like he was. "Explain it to me, because it seems like no one is even fighting him. We're going down like...like deer transfixed before the hunter."

"She has to keep a strident voice in the household daily, or she'll lose whatever privileges he's allowed her. She's terrified of not having a voice, Wat and that makes her behave in the way she promised him she would."

"What promise?"

Kate sat back against the wall, leaning her head back and staring at the sky. "She made a bargain with him, she said. He'd keep her in the life she wants and, in public, she'll play the loving wife he's never had. They have private conflict. According to her, she'll never bring their private ills forward into the open for all to see because that would be breaking her promise to him."

Wat was silent for a moment. "I need to speak to her."

"No one's stopping you."

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and staring at the ground. "How did you and Geoff come about?" He half expected her to tell him it was none of his business, but she only gave a soft chuckle.

"Like a dam bursting. I think we were both so starved for affection we didn't think."

"It sometimes happens that way."

"That it does. And when the flood waters go down, what's left?"

He had no answer to her question and they sat in companionable silence for a long while, listening to the noise of merriment from the hall.


	4. Chapter Four

* * *

Title: Trial By Fire

Chapter: Four

Author: kasey8473

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

* * *

No sooner had Geoff settled in for a rest, then an urgent letter came for him and Nicholas found the man waiting to see him early one morning.

"May I ask, Master Chaucer, what sends you from us in such haste and so soon after your arrival?" He was genuinely curious. The man had never seemed the sort to be ruled by haste, yet he was quickly setting his things ready for a journey. "King or personal?"

"It's personal, my lord."

Though he was always most proper in his words and address, Nicholas knew without a doubt that this man cared little for him as a person. He was simply someone Chaucer remembered from a previous year; someone that was disliked. Chaucer hid his feelings rather well, save for the occasional flash of that feeling in his eyes. That flash was always quick and disappeared in the fraction of a second.

"My wife. The letter I received says she's very ill and I must go to her. She's dear to me."

Nicholas casually flicked his gaze out the window, where Jocelyn, Christiana and Kate were holding a lively conversation over a bolt of cloth. "If your wife is so dear to you, then why do you play about with Mistress Kate?" It was not a query he had any right to make, nor did he expect an answer.

Chaucer's gaze met his and Nicholas saw a great amount of pain there. A wound was open and Chaucer's soul laid bare before him. It was a sign, Nicholas decided, of the man's turmoil when he actually answered. "Philippa has always been dear to me. Unfortunately, in recent years, I have not been dear to her and I've no explanation for the turning away of her affections. If there's a chance her illness has changed that, then I must go home."

Nicholas could understand that and even sympathize. He nodded, then opened the purse at his waist and counted out a generous amount of coin. Those were knotted into a square of cloth and slid across the table towards the man.

"My lord?"

"Your pay, Master Chaucer."

"I didn't come here to work."

"I know. You came for Jocelyn. However, you did ply your craft with refreshing enthusiasm. Jocelyn has kept me up nights with her excited musings on how the tales you entertained us with would conclude. Her happiness is well worth a few coins. If my wife is happy, then my household runs smoothly. It spins out from there. Should she be unhappy, all sorts of my dealings can be set awry."

"I see, my lord." Fine brows raised.

"I can find no reason not to pay you for a job you did well, even though it wasn't your reason for coming here."

"Thank you, my lord." Chaucer inclined his head a fraction and Nicholas sighed.

"Whenever you're ready to leave, you may go on your way."

In minutes, Nicholas saw the man outside, taking Kate's arm and leading her away. He turned away from the window. Their goodbye, he suspected, would be explosive in one way or another.

* * *

If Kate were a writer, she'd write the scene so that there were no tears and no pain from either side. She was not, however, and both were present with copious abandon. They both wept and both could not help but reveal their anguish over their final parting, though they had known it would be coming.

Kate put her hands on his chest, gripped the edges of that long coat he adored. "It has to be a clean break, Geoff. You know that. No coming back for me or swinging by while on another journey. It'd be far too painful to remember that you were mine and could not be again."

"Kate...."

"We both knew this day was coming, just as we both know Philippa isn't ill. She's rarely ill and this is too timely a coincidence. She does this to call you home to her." Kate forced herself to step away from him. "Go. Just go."

A dramatic way to end their acquaintance, those three words and a pleading look, but Geoff was a man of high drama, well versed in the setting and playing out of a scene and he'd not let an amateur write their parting. Kate would not get the final word. He caught at her arms with his hands. "Will you let me speak?"

"What do you need to say that hasn't already been said?"

"How about 'I love you, Kate'?"

"It's been said and while I know you're fond of me, Geoff, your heart has always been hers." She was trying to distance herself and if he'd only leave already, the tactic had a slight chance of working. Perhaps she wouldn't collapse completely to the ground in grief for what had briefly been.

Geoff thrust her from him. "You don't know how I feel, what I feel. I've loved her and I've loved you and where does it say that a second love cannot be as true as the first? Where does it say that a heart cannot be torn between two? Tell me that, Kate, for I'd dearly love to know."

She crossed her arms. "There's a bit of a difference between that and us."

"How? You're my second love!"

"No." Kate backed away. "I'm not second, Geoff. I'm not even third or fourth. Your craft is your first love and that brings Philippa as your second. Third is your gambling and fourth is your work for the King. I'm nowhere near the top."

He shook his head. "You're being deliberately thick headed. I know why, but it's still infuriating. You know damn well that as far as love for a woman goes, you're second in line. Don't drag anything else into it and cheapen what we shared."

Another rush of hot tears slipped from her eyes, blurring his image. Sometimes, it was best to be cruel in order to be kind. "I slept with a married man. How is that not cheap?"

Geoff's eyes went wide and he hung his head. "Kate, don't. Please --"

"I'm Jezebel, Geoff. Run home to your wife."

When he raised his head, the pain that she'd seen long months earlier was back in his eyes and all she wanted to do was soothe it away. She couldn't. She had to send him home.

His lips tightened into a thin, angry line. "You want it that way? Fine. No goodbye kiss or embrace. No kind words that lay my heart bare to you. From this day, you're dead to me, Kate. Do you feel better now?" Whirling, he stalked towards the stables and Kate turned, running blindly until she ran full into someone and felt arms go about her, gentle hands stroking her hair and back.

Wat held her while she cried and said not one word.

* * *

He didn't mean to witness their parting, just as he didn't mean to feel a secret thrill by that particular development. He didn't mean either. They just happened.

Kate cried into his shirtfront, her face buried in his coat and hands bunching the fabric at his sides. She cried as though she would pour out every single bit of sorrow within her, wringing out the last drops.

Wat held her. It was all he could do, and when her legs gave out beneath her, he picked her up and carried her to the nearest secluded bench, tucking the tails of his coat about her in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. He rocked her and rubbed her back and even pressed tiny kisses to her temple.

Yet all the while, he imagined this simple time of comfort leading to more. He imagined a happy world where he ended up with Kate in the end.

It couldn't come about. He knew that as surely as he knew which direction the sun rose. Kate would never look at him with her dark eyes and see him as more than a friend. To her, that's all he was and all he'd ever be. Darling Wat, incendiary in temper and always hungry. That saddened him more than anything else.

Where was love for a man such as he?

* * *

She wasn't embarrassed by what had occurred, yet it still felt as though every eye was upon her during the next couple weeks. Kate imagined her friends carefully gauging her moods and tiptoeing about her, though she knew it wasn't so. Jocelyn was her usual self, not ignoring the subject of Geoff and Christiana did everything she could to keep Kate's spirits up. Even Wat did his part, spending time with her.

They shared their afternoons, taking walks and playing with the children. They relived old memories and discussed their host in frank terms, finally agreeing that he had changed. Adhemar was not quite the man he'd been, just as none of them were quite what they had been.

She told him how much owning a tavern for even a short while had brought a maturity to him that she'd never thought to see, to which he made some teasing remark and proved quite ably that he was not as mature as she made him out to be, playing an outrageous game with Miles and the girls. He overly dramatized a play death, clutching his chest and groaning until Genevieve rolled her eyes, put her foot lightly on his stomach and said, "Will you die already, Wat? It's been like five hours."

He complied and they moved on into tree climbing. Kate hadn't thought either of the girls would be interested in climbing trees, but Genevieve proved her wrong. Ana returned to the house and Kate watched as Miles, Wat and Genevieve climbed ever higher in the treetops, trying to outdo each other.

That, she decided later, was when the trouble started.

Genevieve made the mistake of looking directly down from her perch. As Miles and Wat climbed down from their respective trees, the girl remained frozen in place. "Kate, I'm scared," she called down.

"Don't look down again, just feel for the footholds and work your way slowly."

"I can't!" Genevieve began to cry, Wat and Miles hurrying their pace, though both still had a long way to climb. Kate took another look back at Genevieve and made a decision. She'd go up after her. By the time she got up there, Wat and Miles would be on the ground. Miles could climb up to lend emotional support to his sister and Wat would be on the ground to catch the girl if she fell.

Kate tied her skirts in the fashion of trousers and began her climb, hoisting herself easily onto the first branch and so on until she was close to Genevieve.

"It's okay, Genevieve. We'll get you down. No problems, sweetheart." Kate spoke soothingly to her, using endearments she never thought she'd use.

"I can't do it! Kate, I'm so scared!"

Kate reached her. "We'll go together, yes? I'll help you."

And they began a slow climb down, Kate going first, then balancing and helping Genevieve down to where she was. Below them, Miles bounced on the balls of his feet, shouting encouraging words as Wat watched them carefully. A quick glance every now and then saw him moving constantly under their position.

They were a good way down, yet still many feet from the ground, when Genevieve reached for Kate and overbalanced.

In that second, Kate saw nothing but tree branches as they both tumbled from the branch. She heard Genevieve's screams and then her own came to her as though from far away. She both felt and heard a snapping in her right arm and then she was lying on the ground beside Wat.

He'd managed to catch Genevieve.

He set the girl onto her feet, asked her if she was fine. Genevieve wasn't hurt.

Pain flickered like the flames of fire along her arm and Kate sobbed. The girl wasn't hurt, but she most definitely was.

Wat crouched down, a hand on her back, urging her to roll over. "Kate? What's wrong?"

Lifting her head, she looked at him. "God, Wat, I'm hurt. I'm hurt bad."

Immediately, his expression changed, fear slipping through his gaze as he gently rolled her over. He studied her, then turned his head, focusing on the children. "One of you run and get your father. Now!"

They both ran and Kate began to cry.

He sat beside her. "You're going to be fine, Kate. This is nothing. This is a scratch."

"Scratches don't hurt like hell," she gritted out though clenched teeth.

The treetops swayed and Kate imagined they were hands waving. 'Goodbye.' 'Goodbye.' She closed her eyes and waited for help to arrive.

* * *

At first, Nicholas hadn't been able to make out anything of what the panicked children were saying except the name 'Kate'. It was actually Germaine who managed to decipher that Kate and Genevieve had tumbled from a tree and Kate was hurt.

Regrettably, the physician was in town with patients. Nicholas would have to tend to this himself. He sent a servant with a message to Jocelyn, asking her to please join them outside and took Germaine with him. They stopped at the well, quickly filling a bucket if water was needed. They arrived as Roland and Jocelyn did.

Kate was on the ground, Wat holding her as best he could with her injury.

Nicholas knelt before Kate, gently prying her fingers from the wound on her arm. She transferred her hand to Wat's coat, gripping it so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Blood smeared on the cloth. He poured water over the wound and heard Jocelyn's gasp at seeing white bone sticking from the flesh.

Kate's arm was badly broken.

Meeting Wat's gaze he was relieved to note that the man seemed to understand what was needed, for Wat immediately began to set about distracting Kate. He didn't have to give an order. Quickly, with Roland holding her body still and Wat talking to her, Nicholas set the bone and splinted the arm. Kate screamed and halfway through, she fainted. Having born breaks that bad before, Nicholas knew the pain of it to be excruciating. It was best she'd fainted.

It was Wat who carried her to her room and Wat again who elected to remain with her.

"I don't give a damn if it's proper. Kate needs one of us," he told Jocelyn before shutting the door in her face.

Nicholas took his wife to their chamber and sat her on the bedside, fingers wiping her tears from her face.

"How can he think I don't care for Kate?"

He sighed. "You don't care for her the way he does, Jocelyn. Wat has feelings for her and I suspect he has for a long while." Cupping her cheek, he laid her head on his shoulder. "Kate broke her arm in such a way that I sincerely doubt she'll ever regain the strength needed to work her trade. It could happen, I suppose, and I won't discourage her from trying. Sometimes having the determination to do something is what enables us to do it. Only time will tell if this is something she can recover fully from."

"Her work is her life, Nicholas. Her work is what makes Kate, Kate."

He laughed. "You have some strange ideas sometimes, Jocelyn. Being a soldier was my life, but did it define who I was? Was I the sum of my choice of work?"

She lifted her head, regarded him for a long moment. "I retract my statement, I guess. Her work is what I associate with Kate because that's where I've seen her most: at her work, her joy. I suppose she's much more than that."

"Just as you are much more than simply Jocelyn."

"Am I?" Her expression was pensive and he couldn't decipher the whole of it. "Am I more than my name?"

"Of course you are. You're wife, lover..._friend_. You're mother. You're many things to many people."

An enigmatic little smile curved her lips. "I am simply Jocelyn, Nicholas, and you tease me."

"And you're fishing for compliments."

"Perhaps." She laid back on the mattress. "You're certain Kate will be fine?"

"Fairly. We'll have to keep watch that infection doesn't take a foot hold, but I think she'll heal." He scooted up on the mattress to join her and was about to continue, when there was a knock at their door.

Genevieve was there, asking to come in.

Jocelyn sat up, reaching her arms out to the girl. "Of course. Come here."

Genevieve approached them cautiously, but didn't join them, scuffing her foot on the floor and looking like she'd done something very wrong that she felt guilty for. "I made her fall." The words came out in a soft low rush and she gave him a fearful glance before moving to Jocelyn's side.

Nicholas leaned slightly to see her face. "What do you mean, Gen?"

She shook her head, arms slipping about Jocelyn, who embraced her and made 'shh-ing' noises. "You're going to be mad."

"Perhaps, but I'll be far angrier if you don't explain."

She sobbed into Jocelyn's shoulder, then took in a shuddering breath. "I'm scared."

"Don't be," Jocelyn said, shifting the girl against her. "It's alright. It's best to tell the truth."

"But I'm scared. Daddy's going to be mad at me."

Nicholas watched his daughter carefully. When upset, it generally took a long while for her to actually get around to explaining what had upset her and why. She was frightened of consequences and would work herself into such a state that she made herself physically ill. She seemed well on her way to such a state now. "Gen."

She gasped at the stern tone, words spilling from her. "It's my fault she fell. I grabbed her and lost my balance and she tried to stop us and I couldn't get my balance and we fell. It's my fault." The last word was drawn out as she gave a piercing wail that would have put her birth mother to shame. Jocelyn winced from it.

Stretching out his arms, he took Genevieve from Jocelyn and cuddled her to him. "It was an accident. Accidents happen from time to time. It's not your fault."

"I shouldn't have fallen."

"It could happen to anyone."

Genevieve cried for several more minutes, then stopped abruptly, looking up at him. "You're not mad?"

"No."

She seemed to accept that, but then her eyes went wide, tears reappearing. "Kate's going to be mad at me."

Jocelyn scooted close. "Kate won't be mad. She knows it was an accident."

Genevieve gave her such a look of trust that Nicholas' heart contracted. "Are you sure?"

"I've known Kate for years; since before you were even born. She won't be mad at you."

After many more moments of encouragement, all was once more right in Genevieve's world and she ran off to play.

Nicholas tugged Jocelyn once more into a reclining position. "You're a good mother to them. Thank you."

"You're good to Miles. I thank _you_."

He didn't know what to say, so he pulled her to him, taking a moment of rest from a long and difficult day.


	5. Chapter Five

Title: Trial By Fire

Chapter: Five

Author: kasey8473

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

* * *

"How is she?"

Wat looked up from the plate full of food he was working on alone at the central table in the kitchen. Roland was crossing to him with a pitcher and cup, a length of fabric tossed over his shoulder. Wat could see embroidery threads of various colors winking from on of the folds. Concern for Kate was etched upon Roland's features.

What could he say? That she was depressed, crying into her pillow and refusing to leave the room she'd been given? That she talked as though it was final and she'd never work her trade again? Should he tell Roland that the Kate they'd once enjoyed fellowship with was disappearing by the hour under a despair so thick that it made her room almost unbearable to be in?

Roland sat across from him on the bench, setting down the pitcher and cup and pouring milk into the cup. "Fresh," he mentioned, taking a long drink before spreading out his embroidery to begin working. "Now, don't be lying to me, Wat. Give it straight. What's her state?"

He took a drink from the cup, agreed with Roland on the milk. It was fresh and very good.

"Tell me about Kate." Roland's needle began to flash in and out of the cloth, a flower taking shape as Wat watched.

His friend had such patience to sit and embroider, while Wat himself could barely mend his own clothes. With Roland about, he'd never needed to hone that particular skill and now, with his business, he'd employed a girl to do the sewing chores. In the tavern, there was always something that needed mending, whether it was cloths for the tables that lords and ladies sat at or bedding for the rooms. Rose gladly mended anything he told her to, as long as she was paid for her efforts.

He took a bite of meat and when he'd swallowed, he shrugged. "She's not coping well."

"That's obvious. Anyone goes in to see her and she orders them away. Tell me something I don't know."

"She thinks she'll never work again and it's bothering her. She won't even consider rebuilding her strength once she's healed." He took another bite, chewing rather than continue speaking. He didn't want to give up the mumblings he'd heard from Kate in the night, when she thought he slumbered in that chair by her bed.

"We'll have to bring her out of it somehow." Roland paused in the middle of forming a leaf as though in thought, but he only shook his head and finished the stitch.

"If you have any ideas, I'm listening."

"None. We'll have to take each day as it comes. Kate will bounce back, Wat. She always has."

Wat wanted desperately to believe him, yet somehow, he was very afraid that on this point, Roland was wrong. "Do you," he began, then shook his head with a sigh.

Roland glanced up from his sewing, brows raised in question. "Go on?"

Sliding his food away, Wat leaned towards Roland. "Do you trust him?" No one was close to them, but he lowered his voice anyway. "Adhemar, I mean. Do you and Christiana trust him?"

The question was not answered for several long moments, where Roland tied off a thread and bit it. Then, he turned his eyes briefly to the open doorway as though half expecting someone to be standing there listening. "Jocelyn trusts him. Right now, that's enough for me."

Wat left his half finished meal there on the table and went up to see Kate.

* * *

Kate had never thought that the arrogance of Adhemar could actually push her into doing something she firmly didn't want to do. After weeks of keeping to herself, with Wat for occasional company, Nicholas Adhemar came to see her. He walked right in after a quick rap of his knuckles upon the door panel and took in her state with a cool stare. He ran that gaze over her in an appraising fashion, then directed her to stand from her chair.

The genial host was not in evidence and she was commanded as he would a peasant under his direction. Kate stood from reflex, not because she accepted him as her lord. He was not her lord. She was a free woman and had been for years, beholden to no noble for her life.

He looked at her arm. "You're healing well, my physician tells me."

Kate made no comment and the man stepped from her, casually walking about the room as though he'd never seen it before in his life. He studied the tapestry on the wall and picked up one embroidered pillow. Finally, he returned to her and something in his eyes made her straighten her back just a little more.

"It's time to work, Kate."

"I can't."

"You can't, or you won't?"

"Can you not see I'm hurt? I'm not fully healed and I can't lift a feather, much less --"

"You'll work."

She was picked up, care taken for her arm, and carried down the stairs, through the hall and out the door. With her good arm, she smacked at him. Wat was immediately behind them, as was Jocelyn, both running to keep up with Adhemar's quick strides. She was taken to the smith's cottage, set down before the door.

"Learn to work with your other arm."

Kate gaped at Adhemar. The man was daft, that had to be it. Did he not comprehend that she was injured?

"Nicholas," Jocelyn began, but he gave her a stern look and she closed her mouth without continuing.

Wat took a step forward, hand reaching out and grasping the man's arm. "Leave her alone, or I swear --"

"Take your hand from me." Adhemar jerked his arm from Wat's grasp. "You're coddling her. All of you."

Kate let out an outraged shriek, stomping her foot on the ground. "Coddling!"

Again, Wat grabbed his arm, but this time he ended flat on the ground. Adhemar had punched him. He got to his feet and before he could move forward, Roland was there, holding him back. "Easy Wat!"

Adhemar got right down into Kate's face, so close that their noses nearly touched. His words were slow and clear. "They're coddling you, Kate, letting you convalesce until you die from it. And you are letting them. You're letting them because you're afraid." His shoulders lifted in a shrug. "You're afraid."

She stepped back, giving him a glare that would have made other men flinch. Adhemar, however, smiled that bland, condescending smile that raised her irritation levels by miles. "I am not afraid!" However, if she could only admit it to herself, he was right. No, Kate thought. I'm afraid of nothing!

Oh, but you are, a voice in the back of her mind answered. You're so very afraid of failing that you're not even willing to try.

"Oh, of course not. Just what I expected from a _woman_." Now condescension dripped from his words and she gasped, shaking her head.

"I am not afraid," she repeated, left hand lifting, punctuating her reply.

Adhemar blinked. "Prove it."

Kate fairly snarled and stomped into the work area. The hell if she'd let him win on this.

* * *

Wat hated to go to Adhemar to thank him for helping Kate. It was a pain twisting in his chest that he had to do so. He'd much rather ignore that the man had done what Wat should have done to begin with.

He found Adhemar on the defensive wall, practicing shooting targets the were placed below. Miles was present as well and Wat couldn't help but swell with pride that the boy was doing just as well with the targets as Adhemar.

After awhile, Miles grew bored and ran off, leaving Wat with Adhemar. Wat stepped up to the wall, staring out at the scenery. "About Kate, my lord --"

"She's doing well, yes?"

"Well, yes. She's got a bit of her confidence back, though she says she'll not be as good with this arm as she was with the other." He placed his hands on the top of the wall, ran them along the rough surface. "My lord, I should thank --"

Once more, Adhemar cut him off. "My grandmother was the same sort of woman as Kate, I find. Very strong willed and stubborn. When she got an idea into her head, the only way to dispel it was with action. Talking did no good, as she'd ignore reason with ease and action was what made sense to her. Well, action coupled with some taunting words. Some women are like that." He set down his bow and also rested his hands on the wall top. "William Thatcher was wise in his choice of friends. He chose people of good character who remained loyal even after his death."

Wat nodded, more to show that he was listening than in reply.

"The past is best forgotten. People change and one day a man can wake up and despise what he had been."

He was left there alone, thinking about what Adhemar had said and wondering if he could even begin to adjust his opinion of the Count. He'd disliked Adhemar for so long that it was habit to despise him and spit at the name. It took a long while of rumination to decide that he might never fully believe that a man could change as much as Adhemar appeared to.

Perhaps Adhemar had changed for the good and perhaps not. Jocelyn seemed to think so and Roland and Christiana would not say clearly how they felt. As for Kate, she worked hard to strengthen her arm, yet kept mentioning to him privately that she'd like to leave soon. Where she was going to go, he didn't know.

He had a business to run and needed to return soon. Richard had been sending letters straight out asking if he needed to raise funds to buy out Wat's part of the business. It was time to leave. He was only a few days ride from here and it was a comfort to know he was close enough that if he was needed, they'd have no trouble finding him.

* * *

Just how dense could one man be?

Kate cradled her arm and watched Wat wrestling with Miles on the floor of the hall. She'd given him hints several times, most blatant ones at that, that she wished to leave with him and be where he was. Maybe I should have just said it outright, she thought, but she'd become so used to Geoff, who tended to pick up on hints with ease, that it hadn't occurred to her that she'd need to say it plain. She should have known; have remembered. Wat needed blunt speech, nothing hinted at in words.

Well, tonight she'd tell him. She'd tell him the truth about her work and the conclusion she'd reached.

Her right arm ached constantly. Granted, it was still early, but she knew it hadn't healed as it should. The limb didn't look straight to her, not like it had been and any pressure upon it caused pain. She needed both her arms to work successfully. Without two strong arms, she honestly couldn't compete. Perhaps a man could work the trade with one arm good, but not her. She had to face that.

And she _had_ faced it. In the mornings when she rose and found herself crying out from the stiffness that had crept into her overnight, she faced the fact that she was not the same and never would be. She was changed. It was a difficult decision to put away something she loved and had worked so hard to become good at.

There was still a chance, everyone kept telling her and she could tell herself that as well, if she didn't know her arm was not healed right. Kate had to find another way to make ends meet and support herself. There had to be something she could do that didn't require two strong arms and going home with Wat was a good place to start. She was certain she could convince him to hire her. She couldn't stay here with Jocelyn, that was for sure.

She'd seen much evidence that Count Adhemar had become a different man, but she didn't really wish to remain and test that for herself. She'd seen enough to know that Jocelyn and Miles would be fine with him even if he did turn out to be showing them masks. Wat felt the same way and that was another reason she'd decided to go with him when he left. He didn't trust Adhemar any further than he could throw him either. Not, she thought wryly, that I can throw him that far with my arm like this anyway.

Getting up, Kate crossed to where Wat and Miles were declaring a truce and waited until Wat looked up at her before asking him to walk with her outside.

* * *

She wanted to go home with him.

How was that for a wish being granted? Wat nearly jumped for joy until she went on, asking him to help her find some form of work in his tavern. Kate wanted to work for him? Wat shook his head. "No, Kate. No. I won't hire you." Before she had a chance to fully misunderstand what he said, he took her shoulders in his hands. "You don't have to work for me."

"I have to work for someone, Wat. I can't very well beg in the streets. I won't go that low. I'd rather work for you and know I'm treated fairly --"

He cut her off with a hand over her mouth. "Stop. Just stop. We'll do a trade if you really want, but I won't hire you."

Suspicion crept into her eyes and she pulled his hand away. "What sort of trade?"

"Keep my house, manage the housekeeping of the inn and you can have food and lodging and anything you desire."

"What else?"

"What el--" He laughed, hand rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture he'd not used in a very long time. There was just something about her though, that made him a boy all over again. "Nothing else, Kate. Nothing else. Unless you decide so."

She pulled back from him, giving him a curious stare. "You're propositioning me again, aren't you?" Her lips turned upwards, not quite a grin, but close. "You are, aren't you?"

Was he? Hell yes. He'd love to have her close every day, where he could see her and hear her and smell her and have her at his side. Wat nodded. Might as well admit it. "Yes. Guess I am." He looked around the courtyard, then held out his hand, a replay of that night long years earlier in London.

This time, Kate had no bag with pastries hidden in it. There was nothing there around her to distract him and she had to look at the situation. She bit her lower lip in a gesture he found charming. "Nothing else unless I wish it? Simply...business? A wife, so to speak, without the wifely duties?"

"Yes."

"I keep my independence?"

"I'd not have you with me otherwise." That was the definite truth. One of the things he loved about her was that independent spirit. He'd not stifle that if he could help it.

Kate stared at his hand now, then reached out and placed her hand in his. "We'll see what develops."

She'd taken his hand. For the first time, Kate reached out and slid her hand into his. Whether anything more came from this besides their arrangement or not, it didn't matter. She'd be with him.

Lovely, in the most beautiful sense of the word. Perhaps there was love for a man such as he after all.

* * *

Some things could not be rectified, Nicholas thought, watching two of Jocelyn's friends take their leave. Those two didn't trust him, nor, he suspected, would they ever. Wat and Kate held themselves apart and the ghost of William Thatcher at his side simply shrugged and told him that he couldn't win all the time and he ought to know that by now.

The ghost was less frequent with him now, after weeks had gone by with Nicholas' efforts towards Thatcher's friends. He'd done his best, but still the ghost lingered and he hadn't a clue what to do about it. Would he always have Thatcher beside him? How inconvenient and irksome to not be able to exorcise the ghost completely.

He rode out by himself to think and ended up beside the small pond on the southern stretch of his property. Nicholas walked around the edge, finding the stepping stones that his father had placed along the muddy bank and took his time balancing upon each then leaping to the next. Twice, he nearly toppled over into the water, but was able to regain his balance. This area was a place he always came to when he was home when he wanted peace to think. Many an afternoon was spent here while Rochelle was alive.

Since Jocelyn had come back into his life, he'd not come out here until today. He'd had no reason to escape the manor, as Jocelyn was far more agreeable than Rochelle had ever been. She respected his need for privacy and didn't try and insinuate herself into his business dealings. Unless, of course she was curious on a matter and then she was polite in her questions and sensible in her suggestions. Jocelyn seemed as eager as he to rebuild the Adhemar fortune and he had to admit, her suggestions had helped in a few areas.

He was rethinking their agreement now. Perhaps he should give her more equality than he was inclined to. She was not a bit like Rochelle and had kept her end of their bargain quite well. The few arguments they'd had had never been displayed publicly. She would argue with a passion, declare her feelings hurt and her person abused, then turn around and behave before others as though she was the most blissful of women.

She was trying and what was _he_ doing aside from chasing Thatcher's ghost away?

He paused on one of the stones, raising his gaze to stare at the bushes directly before him.

Nicholas had limited Jocelyn as much as he thought he could get away with without her crying their agreement foul. He'd put restrictions upon her that his mother would have whipped him for. His mother had, in her lifetime, been given free reign over the household as long as what she wanted didn't clash with what his father preferred.

Lowering his gaze back down to the stones, Nicholas hopped to the next one. Could he risk giving Jocelyn such power? Something told him that he could. At one time, that might not have been the case, yet now, she was no longer a girl. She was a woman and one with definite opinions on everything. He'd discuss with her the ideas she had for their home and they'd work from there.

The ghost sat on the bank and watched him and Nicholas sighed. "What do I have to do to get rid of _you_, though?"

The apparition watched him solemnly.

"Do I have to say I'm sorry; that I was young and utterly stupid? Well then, let it be said, though I don't blame my behavior all upon that. I was not a good man and there were many reasons for that. Can I not change, Thatcher? Can I not atone for my sins? Is it even possible to set you from me? I regret that I tried to kill you and I regret those things I did during the course of our rivalry. What now must be done? Have I not taken care of everything you held dear? Your friends and family? Why do you continue to plague me?"

Now, the ghost stood.

"You won fair that day. You were the better man, the noble man. I have paid ten fold and then some for all I did. There is nothing more I can do or say. This is it. Each day begins anew and our rivalry faded away long ago. It cannot be changed, only regretted and set away. I've done what I can in repentance and forgiven myself...."

That was it. He _had_ done everything he could, except honestly forgive himself for the man he'd been and those things he'd done.

Oh dear God. How simple was that?

He laughed, the sound shaky with emotion, wiping one hand across his face. He'd been holding on to Thatcher all this time. The ghost didn't have hold of him, but rather, he of the ghost. Crouching down, he stared at the water.

"You were a good man, Thatcher and I hope someday to find the peace you have now."

Nicholas looked up and over at the bank, tension slipping from his shoulders as he stood.

The ghost had gone.

He was alone.

Sort of.

From behind him, he heard the sounds of a body moving through the brush. Miles appeared. He was in a sorry state, mud and grass smeared all over him and his hair liberally adorned with leaves and burrs. "Who are you talking to?"

Nicholas wave him over. "I had some things to work out aloud. It's best to do it in privacy."

Miles hopped onto the rock beside him and peered into the water. "Oh." His features scrunched with thought, then he turned his gaze up to Nicholas. "Did you...really know my dad?"

"Yes," came the honest reply. He couldn't very well lie to the boy, could he? "I knew your father before you were born."

"Like Wat and them? Were you friends too?"

Nicholas crouched back down. "I didn't know your father that well. But let me tell you a story. I'm not as good at storytelling as Master Chaucer was, so bear with me." They both settled comfortably on the rocks. "Years ago, there was a fair maiden by the name of Jocelyn and there were two men who adored her...."

And so Jocelyn found them hours later, both playing in the water and telling friendly tales of the departed William Thatcher. Nicholas left Miles playing in the water and went to greet her, planting a kiss on her cheek. She drew him back a few paces. "You were talking of Will?"

Draping one arm about her shoulders, he gave a nod. "Should we not? The boy needs to remember his father."

"What sort of tales were you telling?"

There was worry in her eyes and he cupped her cheek in his hand. "Not the sort that would have you anxious. I told him how we all met at tournament and how we fought for your favor. Don't worry, Jocelyn. I'll not slander William Thatcher. Breathe easy."

They stood watching Miles for a long while. All ghosts had gone from them both and their life, from now on, was theirs.


	6. Chapter Six

Title: Trial By Fire

Chapter: Six

Author: Kasey

Summary: _After 'Venus Revealed'. _Adhemar must win over Jocelyn's friends.

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Adhemar/Jocelyn, Roland/Christiana, Geoff/Kate

Disclaimer: 'A Knight's Tale' is the property of Columbia Pictures. I make no money from this work of fan fiction.

Notes: This tale needed just a bit more to wrap it up.

****

Epilogue:

Geoffrey Chaucer stood outside of the tavern where many years before, he and Kate had found Wat. He didn't even know if Wat was still there, but if he was, he'd ask him where he could find Kate. Their parting had been angry and though many years had passed since that day, he found himself anxious to see her.

The building was in excellent repair, no doubt due to the labors of the three young people working on it. There were two men and a woman, all three with dark auburn hair. The woman looked so much like Kate that tears sprung up in his eyes.

Gathering his courage, he strode across the narrow street and into the tavern. Inside, it was dark, but as his eyes adjusted, he saw the main room little changed from what he remembered. A woman moved among the tables, pausing now and then to wipe them with a cloth and Geoff could not hold back emotion any longer.

It was Kate.

She walked among the tables, her hair still long, caught back in a simple tie as he remembered, her form still trim. She looked up, her mouth opening. Just as quickly as her surprise appeared, so did her joy, lighting up her entire face. Her smile tugged upon his heart and Geoff walked towards her.

Kate dropped the cloth onto the table top and held out her arms. "Oh Geoff, it _is_ you!" She enfolded him in a warm hug.

"Would it be any other?" He glanced about. "Would Wat be about as well?"

Sadness flickered in her eyes. "Let's talk, hmm?"

Kate led him to a table and when they had cups before them, she began to speak. "Wat's dead, Geoff. It happened nearly a year ago. Miles came to him for help in rescuing Adhemar. Apparently, there was a property dispute and Adhemar rode into battle only to get himself captured. Wat went, along with Roland and our youngest boy, John. Jocelyn sent for me not too long after they left and I arrived there just before Wat breathed his last. Adhemar lingered for nearly two weeks, but the infections he had in his body took him. He'd been tortured by his captors." She paused, frowning as though to stave off tears. "He died in a fever and Jocelyn has not recovered. It would have been kinder if she'd died first."

"I'm sorry about Wat, Kate," he began, but she shook her head.

"Don't be. Wat lived life to the fullest and he was ready, I think. He's up there with Will right now, filling him in and we'll see him again someday. We'll see them both."

"Did Jocelyn...." Geoff faltered on completing the sentence, but he pushed it out. "Did she grow to love him? Adhemar I mean."

Kate sipped her drink, thinking. "Perhaps. She never said. They had five children though and three have survived to adulthood. She mourns as though she's lost her heart, much like she did with Will. Etienne, their eldest, takes very good care of her. His wife treats her like a mother. I fully suspect one day soon to have a letter come from them saying that she has died. Christiana and Roland do their best to keep her spirits up, but Jocelyn has not spoken to any of them since Adhemar died. Her tongue went silent and she cries."

Tears would not stop coming to Geoff's eyes and he let them fall. Such was life. Death happened and it did no good to keep it all inside. "Philippa has died as well. This has not been a good year for me either in personal regards."

She stretched out a hand, covered one of his. "But we're here and we're alive."

Geoff shook off some of his melancholy. "What of you? I mean aside from Wat. How have the years treated you?"

"Well." Her lips twitched. "Richard.... You remember Wat's partner? His daughter married Ewan our eldest and they run the tavern for me. I'm given lodging and all that goes with it. Rose, our daughter, took up my old trade by marrying the local smith's apprentice and John won't settle on one woman. He reminds me so much of Wat."

"You married Wat then? I never thought you'd give up your trade, Kate."

She raised her chin a notch. "It wasn't by choice, I assure you. I had an accident and lost the ability to work with my right arm. I've little strength in it and even to this day it aches when the weather changes."

"I'm sorry," he repeated and he was sorry. Kate had loved her job and the loss of it must have hurt her considerably.

"Don't be. Our stars can change even if we do not actively pursue change. I don't regret my life, Geoff. I was happy after a long while." She released his hand. "And you?"

How to answer? She'd been correct back then in her assumption that Philippa was not sick. His wife had greeted him with tears and a long talk on what had happened between them. Suffice it to say that there'd been misunderstanding and hurt on both sides and Philippa was most willing to work out their troubles. Lewis had been born a year after their reconciliation. "Off and on, I was happy as well."

Kate sat back in her chair. "What brings you here?"

"I had to know how you were, all of you. In all my life, I've never had friends such as all of you were to me." He committed her face to memory once more and felt in his heart that it was time to leave. He'd found what he came for, his questions answered in a few minutes of conversation. "I'll go now."

She stood as he stood, shaking her head. "You just got here. Stay. Meet my family. Stay for a few days and meet Jocelyn's daughter. We expect Elisabeth on her way back to London."

"No, no. I can't spare the days. I've got an appointment and I have to show up for work." He took a last drink from his cup. "I couldn't wait on coming here though. I had to _know_. Does that make sense, Kate?"

Setting her hands on her hips, she tilted her head to one side, licked her lips. "Yes. It makes perfect sense." The stance lent her aging features a girlish cast and Geoff could almost see that young woman standing before him.

"Good." He went to the door and, just before going out, he looked over his shoulder. "I _am_ writing it down, you know. All of it. It was a wonderful adventure."

Kate's smiling face carried him out into the street, to his mount and all the way home. A peace settled upon him and he could go about with life knowing that, while not all of his friends were well, they had all lived full lives. They'd had their own adventures and some day, within the walls of heaven, they'd gather about a campfire as they once had, and share their stories.

He looked forward to that day.


End file.
